


Better Biting Down

by BullySquadess



Series: ML Enemies Au [3]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, ml enemies au, rated for makeouts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-19 02:10:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11303565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BullySquadess/pseuds/BullySquadess
Summary: Hiding from an akuma with your worst enemy?Better make out.





	Better Biting Down

**Author's Note:**

> Find it on tumblr here: http://bullysquadess.tumblr.com/post/146134197412/lol-heres-where-the-enemyau-sin-starts
> 
> This one gets spicy (they're 18 or 19 here).

“You know, if you wanted me pressed up against you like this so badly, you should have jus-“

“Quiet,” Ladybug hissed, slapping the hand not gripping her yo-yo over the young man’s mouth and sending him a glare to boot. She pushed the both of them tighter into the shadows, flattening their bodies to the pipe-strewn wall behind them and willing the nuisance in her grasp to stay silent for once in his miserable life.

(Though those hopes where all in vain it would seem, as Chat Noir continued to mumble against her palm until seeming to realize his protests (or more likely the case, his catcalls) were going utterly ignored. )

He bit the material of her glove, she tightened the cable binding his wrists, and the continued sounds of destruction echoed across their hiding spot.

It wasn’t often that an Akuma went off leash- Hawkmoth usually controlled his minions to the point of near enslavement -but when a situation did arise in which one of the tyrants managed to disobey their handler, things got dicey.

And fast.

Most of the time it was either children or the elderly who were inclined to disregard their mission of “get the earrings, spare the boy”, both demographics who made up the very pinnacle of human stubbornness. Today seemed like a case of the latter.

The akuma currently tearing its way through the V.A building (mumbling about those “goddamn bureaucrats” and his missing health care check) was an especially bull-headed enemy. Having immediately veered off from Hawkmoth’s mission to instead seek vengeance for his late benefits, even Chat’s intervention had done little to sway “Major Paine” from his task. Coercion, threats, even brute force had all ended up with his leather-clad form being tossed aside like a ragdoll, and guess who just _had_ to be the hero and haul his ass out of danger?

No, go ahead. Guess.

So that’s how the two miraculous holders now found themselves in their current position: Chat Noir with wrists bound behind his back and shoulders held to the wall of some dimly lit maintenance hallway, Ladybug with one hand binding, one hand shushing and entire body pinning him, and both of them seething as they desperately waited out the akuma.

 _‘Just lay low until it gets distracted and then you can go kick ass,’_ Ladybug thought in a near endless mantra, already growing twitchy at having Chat Noir this close.

To her earrings, of course.

“Eugh,” she wretched, whipping her hand off his mouth as she registered something wet drag across her palm, “Don’t lick me, you perv!”

“She says, as she continues to tie me up with her freaky sex cables.” Chat cracked his neck, peering down (God how Ladybug hated their height difference) with a look of utter annoyance. “You know, I thought your job was to fight akuma. Not kidnap unsuspecting and gorgeous young men for a bit of spur-of-the-moment bondage.”

“And I thought your job was to snatch my miraculous. Looks like we’re both pretty bad at what we do.”

“I resent that.”

“I resent you.”

He huffed, surging forward. “Well this was fun! But I should probably get going now so-“

With her forearm braced across the front of his shoulders, Ladybug slammed Chat Noir back into the mortar, pulling her yo-yo just a hair’s breadth snugger around his wrists.

“You go back out there and you’ll get your ass beat. And as much as I’d sincerely love to see that happen again, I know you’d just pick yourself up and lead the akuma right back to where I’m hiding.” She leaned in close, blue eyes glinting dangerously in the low-light. “So you’re going to stay right here like the good little kitten you aren’t, silent and still, until I say you can do otherwise.”

“I see,” Chat mused, immediately disregarding everything she’d just said as he tested his bonds with a shimmy. Ladybug pushed herself tighter against him, humming in warning. “And just what makes you think you can tell me what to do, Insect?”

“Oh I don’t know,” Ladybug growled, keeping her voice low as to not be overheard by the very creature they hid from, “Maybe it’s the fact I’m stronger, smarter, and currently have you pinned, Stray.”

She had to take great care not to spit that last word, and it must have shown.

“My, my,” he purred in that infuriatingly ~~sexy~~ goading voice of his, “Are you trying to seduce me? I didn’t peg you as the honeypot type.” Another load crash resounded from somewhere in the building, and both miraculous wielders tensed up. After a moment, the sound faded out, and Ladybug registered Chat relaxing his stance alongside her.

She didn’t care to dignify his taunt with a response, knowing it would only spur them into another game of “Lets See How Many Insults We Can Swap Before One Of Us Throws A Punch”, and instead set her attention towards crafting a battle strategy.

Her objectives were as follows: wait until the akuma got it’s hands on whatever it was looking for, somehow escape this godforsaken hallway without a hairball clinging to her heel, conjure her lucky charm while her foe was distracted, nab the war medal pinned to Major Paine’s chest, catchphrase, getaway, yadda-yadda-yadda…

It was simple. All a matter of-

“Okay I’m seriously starting to get pissed here.” Again, Chat Noir’s attempt at escape was thwarted by a mass of polka-dotted fury, his next stinging remark similarly cut short by her hand refastening itself across his mouth.

“Listen here you-ow!” Ladybug yanked hard on his bound wrists, forcing the tendons in Chat’s shoulders to stretch to their full extent. “I told you before not to bite me, mongrel!” The only answer she received was a glowing green death stare…

And another sharp nip to her palm.

Fed up and on the verge of simply knocking him out, Ladybug removed her hand once more. She muttered unending curses under her breath, wiping the saliva from her glove off onto her rival’s bicep and leaning forward to growl directly into his ear.

“Listen here you flea-bitten piece of alley trash. I don’t care what you have to do to keep that annoying little mouth of yours occupied but you’d better do it. Because I’m not having _my_ day ruined by _your_ inability to shut the hell up, got it?”

Surprisingly enough, the scathing response she anticipated never came, but Ladybug only had a moment to ponder over the puzzling silence before her explanation came in the form of another bite.

To her _neck_.

At the feeling of sharp canines digging into the material of her collar she couldn’t help but gasp. It was purely an instinctual reaction, she rationalized, anyone would be caught off guard by something like that.

(But the shiver that coursed down her spine and the sudden spike of heat in her stomach could be attributed to a whole different breed of instinct entirely.)

“Interesting,” Chat breathed, hot air fanning out along the underside of her jaw as he gave a triumphant chuckle. He leaned a tad closer, so his next words were spoken almost _against_ her. “Now, I thought you told me not to bite. Yet you don’t seem to have a problem with me doing this…”

His teeth grazed the skin above her costume this time, lighter but infinitely more reactive, and gooseflesh rose instantly from the point of contact. Ladybug bit down the noise her mouth wanted to make, but unfortunately that meant she just gulped instead, and the gesture ended up being somehow even more incriminating than if she’d outright whimpered.

The mouth pressed to her throat ginned.

Then sucked.

Ladybug felt her spine snap straight, the motion unintentionally (unintentionally!!) pressing her closer to where Chat’s lips pulled at her flesh, and the victorious hum he gave in response would have set her temper to boil if not for the fact it felt so goddamn good vibrating up the column of her neck. Frustrated, in every sense of the word, she could only hold still as his sharp suction turned to equally sharp pulls of teeth, trying everything in her power to deny the notion that his actions where anything besides a nuisance.

A hot… erotic… _brain liquefying_ nuisance.

“You like that?” he teased between each little nip, voice pitching almost imperceptively lower with every word it spoke. She did not shudder.

Nor did she slot one leg between his.

“I like anything that makes you shut u-uuhhh…” The jab was interrupted as Chat found a particular sweet spot, his tongue and teeth pressing harder in response to the way Ladybug melted at the touch.

Despite the fact she couldn’t see his face, buried as it was beneath her chin, she couldn’t help but assume he was leering. It was as though she could _feel_ the smirk he carried as he allowed his tongue to skate along the trench formed by her jugular, and you better believe the fact he was intentionally toying against her most vulnerable vein never escaped Ladybug for one second.

Most likely sensing her line of thought, Chat growled something indecipherable and foreboding, mouth trailing up her neck as he kis-

No.

…mouth trailing up her neck as he _pressed his puckered lips_ along the tendons of her throat in some sort of twisted reminder that he could very well take his animalist title to heart and gore her at any second.

It was an obvious threat, but Ladybug didn’t heed it one bit.

Because Chat Noir was another beast entirely, one with a goal outside of flesh and blood. A goal that he now sought as he continued up her neck, around her jaw, and on until his teeth latched onto her earlobe.

As well as the jewelry found there.

At the feeling of his mouth closing around her ear, Ladybug leapt into action, using one hand to tighten his restrains and the other to yank the hair at his nape back until Chat released her with a wet pop. Provoked but unshaken (she was hardly surprised by his actions, having anticipated this sort of behavior the moment she allowed within a foot of her face), the heroine snarled in warning as she held him inches away.

“You go near my miraculous stones again and I snap both your wrists. Got it?” Ladybug felt Chat shrug before giving the studs another feather-light lap of his tongue.

Her yo-yo contracted once more, in a clear message that branded “try it sucker” into the leather of his gloves.

“Easy,” Chat breathed against her ear, kis- _pressing his lips_ to the shell of it before retreating to his original position near her jaw, “I got the memo, little lady.” She hummed, but allowed him to continued none-the-less.

Though remaining hypervigilant of his proximity to her miraculous, Ladybug felt herself relax once more, falling back into the now almost worryingly comfortable rhythm of Chat’s ministrations and letting her eyes roll up to the ceiling in a gesture that was half pleasure, half “how the fuck did I even get into this situation?”. 

She tried to make her brain think, tried to make it conjure anything past thoughts of what that hot breath might feel like ghosting across other, more sensitive part so her body. But God it was so hard to stay level headed when her blood was rushing and her lips were trembling and the mass resting against the top of her leg just couldn’t be Chat’s baton because she’d confiscated that long before she’d even tied him up damn it!

He _couldn’t_ be turned on, because that would only give credit to her own arousal- the one she was currently writing off as product of being in a very stuffy corridor next to a body bedecked in nothing but leather. Ladybug found only a small sense of satisfaction with the knowledge Chat was most likely far more uncomfortable than she, as with the notion of his supposed discomfort came the reminder his unease came in the form of something much more physical than pure temperature.

Something physical and pertinent and currently rocking against the juncture of her upper thigh in a grinding friction that was not entirely his doing.

Ladybug strenuously denied their entanglement held any sort of sexual connotation, despite the mounting _(‘bad choice of words’)_ evidence. She denied, for minutes at a time, that any action on either of their parts was something beyond sheer boredom at their standoff.

She denied and denied and denied… frantic, desperate… but the sound she let slip when their hips met again was one she couldn’t will away. It was pure frustration, an almost-protest against her own traitorous hormones.

And Chat froze up immediately.

“You want me to stop?” he asked, the question a curious mixture of teasing and…

…was that actual concern?

Ladybug tossed the thought, unwilling to dwell on it.

Truth was, the _last_ thing she wanted was for him to stop, but she’d sooner pop out her earrings and present them to him on a silver platter than admit it. Cutting the difference, she gave the smallest shake of her head, tilting her chin farther back and refusing to seek his eyes as she issued her silent, indignant, invitation.

(She didn’t have to meet his gaze to know what she’d find there. Greed and haughtiness, that twinkle of victory, of power over her that she loathed to let him keep. He’d probably wink just to remind her how very much a game this was to him. Remind her how thoroughly he was playing her. Playing _with her_.)

Still, he was slow to return to work, and few second passed where Ladybug almost (feared was not the right word, never for her) pondered the possibility Chat would turn away. A moment later his mouth re-attached itself however, this time to her clothed collarbone. His teeth dragged along the material of her suit, snagged on the strong bone that jutted from her shoulder, and finally bit down with a worrying of his jaw that felt almost unfairly pleasurable seeing as though they had no skin-to-skin contact.

And from there he only grew bolder.

Seeming to feed off the tiny reactions Ladybug couldn’t help but let slip, Chat was unnaturally attuned to what she did and didn’t like. Even more surprising was the fact he actually listened. When she hummed, (or more accurately, harrumphed) he knew he’d found a sensation she didn’t care for and would slowly ease off. When she grew quiet, he knew he’d stayed in one place too long and would try to mix things up.

And when she gasped? When she let off those near-silent moans or completely unintentional whimpers?

That’s when Chat would push, with all his might.

He’d push with his teeth, his tongue. With his hips and his lips and the suction they brought. He’d bore into her, pouring every shred of intensity one could muster with hands behind their back and then some, as he went about leaving little bruises so unlike the others he’d gifted her during their prior fights.

And make no mistake, this was still a fight. It was a close-quarters, bare-fisted, teeth gnashing battle between Ladybug’s sense of duty, Chat Noir’s sense of pride and their mutual, visceral, desire for contact in any form.

Tikki had once told Marinette that she and Chat had been lovers in a past life. That they’d funneled that physical connection into something heady and desirous rather than combative. At the time Marinette had wanted to laugh or scoff at the idea, wanted to write it off as fantasy, but in all actuality the notion hadn’t even come as a shock to her. 

Because she’d known (God had she known) from that first day they’d met, that Ladybug and Chat Noir where meant to be drawn towards each other. Mind, soul…

…and body.

She hated it, but she didn’t deny it. How could she when their hand-to-hand combat more often than not turned into the sort of grappling matches that did little but bring them tighter against each other? How could she when, despite the fact every interaction she’d ever had with him screamed otherwise, her fingers still itched to thread along Chat’s scalp each time she caught sight of that tangled mass of blonde hair?

How could she deny there was some sort of cosmic pull when during _every single fight_ she had to resist the urge to pull him close for no other reason than to simply feel him? How could she laugh at Tikki’s recollection when _every single day_ was a struggle not to wonder about the young man somewhere across Paris with the green eyes and the glittering teeth? Who was she to say they’d never been lovers when _every single night_ came with that burning feeling of emptiness, of absence as she gasped and clenched around nothing, upon nothing, upon nothing?

This was something. 

What they were doing right now was something.

It was wrong, and in the end it would never be enough, but it was something to take the edge off of the months and years of missing contact that had been weighing upon their shoulders.

So Ladybug let Chat mark her, happy to endure his teeth so long as they were followed by the soothing pressed of his lips.

And Chat let Ladybug subdue him, granted it was the entirety of her body, her _warmth_ , that was pinning him down.

They both let whatever was happening continue to happen, because they silently knew it was so desperately, mutually needed to survive.

The lips Chat pressed along her jaw, past her chin, and even bordering her cheeks did not constitute kisses, because enemies don’t kiss. The way Ladybug’s hand stoked up his stomach, across his shoulders, through his hair and back down again was far from petting because what kind of hero would so rapturously stroke a villain? He didn’t murmur “so good” into the crook her neck and she certainly didn’t follow up with a plea for “more”, because those weren’t the types of words exchanged between bitter rivals.

Minutes- closer to an hour than what was probably responsible- passed in which they simply felt each other, hampered but unhurried. Minutes of silence and heat. Minutes of movement. Minutes of _contact._

Minutes they knew would never be discussed again.

By the time Ladybug finally unwound her yo-yo and Chat slowly retracted his mouth, the service hallways had grown suspiciously quiet, and in that silence came the reminder of where their real responsibilities lie. The miraculous wielders gave no indication of speaking as they navigated out from the building, eyes averted and bodies unwilling to make a move against one another. Ladybug gave no mention of the prominent lingering effect of their entanglement situated below her rival’s belt, and he in turn offered no comment when the sudden light of outside illuminated the extra spots she now displayed along her throat.

They swung and vaulted their way towards the akuma in silence, predictably turning on each other the moment they hit the scene of the attack, but their melee came with a distinct lack of their typical banter. There were no taunts or goads or flirts hidden beneath a gossamer veil of mutual disdain. Just a handy lucky charm, a failed cataclysm, a snap of one compact, and a black cat retreating alongside a white butterfly.

Just a triumphant Ladybug smiling for the cameras.

Just a conflict-ridden Marinette, slipping from an alleyway a moment later.

Just an utterly weary Tikki, exhausted in more ways than one and trying her best not to dwell on the way things used to be.

The ways things were _meant to be._

The way things weren’t anymore…


End file.
